Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Girlfriend Experience
Not the final nail in the coffin but getting there. The only thing that got me excited about this purported button pushing art-porn is when I realized that if I walked out it would all be over.
Maybe in 20 years, Soderbergh’s post-Oscar non-Oceans work will be seen as trail blazing. He’ll be regarded for his stubborn insistence on sticking to a big idea, his formal stunts where something overly arty is pushed to a dispassionate and fragmented extreme only to see if it can come out in the end as human, genial and poignant. He’ll be lauded for his subverting genres, from sci-fi to the bio-pic to espionage thrillers. So "The Good German" won’t be seen as an ill-advised fuck you to Casablanca, "Solaris" won’t be seen as an hour & 1/2 arid one-note mope-montage of a wistful, emo Clooney, and "Che" won’t seem like Soderbergh’s trying to prove that in order to evoke someone’s life faithfully you have to leave in all the boring parts.
But until then it just seems like he’s playing games, stalling, trying to recover that artistic fire he used to have when he wasn’t shacked up with a hot piece of ass way out of his league.
Though this is the sad end of nearly all artists who get with fine ass bitches. Case in point: Tarantino hooks up with Mighty Fucking Aphrodite-era Mira Sorvino and precedes to make Four Rooms, Jackie Brown and then nothing, whereas Scorsese made Last Temptation and Goodfellas when he was trying to resist the urge to bite Illeana Douglas’s face off.
This goes on and on. Just look at how Burton hasn’t made anything worth Beetlejuice since hooking up with Lisa Marie and Helena Bonham. (The one exception of course is Woody Allen, who’s the total inverse, wherein his talent directly correlates to the hotness of chicks he’s banging.)
Mickey said it best -- “Women weaken legs!”